Love and Logic
by agentpippin
Summary: Set during "Rogue Planet". Mild spoilers. T/T abounds. Aren't they cute? Trip and T'Pol take in a movie, along with the rest of Enterprise. You put it together and what have you got? The product of my brain on some serious caffeine. *COMPLETED*
1. Mutant zombies

The T/Ters are back full force, and I am thoroughly ticked off by Shuttlepod One. Observe the result.  
The '//'s are meant to show thoughts, since ff.net doesn't seem to like my choice of italic tags.   
Disclaimer: Not mine... dammit.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
*BBBBBZZZtttt.*  
  
"Not AGAIN!" the engineer exploded at the turbolift. "I don't believe this!"  
  
Trip dropped to his knees on the floor of the lift and pried open an access panel, grumbling. "Why   
the hell won't these things just work?"  
  
T'Pol stood above him, watching him work. "Perhaps you should think about a permanent solution,   
Commander, not just your temporary "quick-fixes"."  
  
Trip rolled his eyes and reached around a hot component to pull out a wire and attach it somewhere   
else. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered. "These damn things always seem to break down whenever I   
need it least. Gimme a hand?"   
  
T'Pol dropped to one knee beside the commander and pulled the cover off another panel, handing Trip   
spare parts when he needed them. They worked in silence for a minute or so until T'Pol suddenly   
spoke. "Do you plan to attend the movie tonight?"  
  
Trip looked up, bemused. "What? The movie?" //Is she makin' small talk?// he wondered.  
  
T'Pol spoke without looking at him. "Mr. Mayweather described it as being very interesting. I   
thought it might be an appropriate recreational diversion, since you seem to be rather tense."  
  
Trip stood abruptly. "And where'd ya get that impression? Yer little Vulcan mood-o-meter?" he shot   
at T'Pol, suddenly irritated. //Damn,// he thought. //Every time it seems like we'll start gettin'   
along, she hasta turn into the big Vulcan pain in the ass she was when she came aboard.//   
  
Trip ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Maybe I am a little tense." He bent down, made   
the final adjustments to the circuitry and jammed the panel back on. He straightened up and raised   
his hands in the air.   
  
"I guess so. What's playin'?" he asked her, as the lift bumped into motion.   
  
T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Attack of the Mutant Killer Zombies," she intoned. Trip stifled a laugh.   
"Sounds good," he told her, smiling. "See ya at 0800 hours, then?"  
  
The Vulcan nodded and turned to face the doors as they opened onto the bridge.   
  
"...be a colony or establishment of some sort," Captain Archer was saying. He looked up as he heard  
the turbolift open. T'Pol strode to her seat and slipped into her chair, long legs folding   
underneath the display monitor.   
  
Trip stood for a second, taking in the bridge, then went to his own   
station. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see T'Pol watching him. He thought about the rather   
odd conversation in the turbolift. //Maybe she ain't so bad,// Trip decided. //Hell, Malcolm, ya   
mighta been right.// Trip still avoided that particular topic around the armory officer - the   
Shuttlepod One incident was still fresh in both their minds. Trip had to scold himself every time   
he realized he was watching the Sub-Commander and recalling Malcolm's little confession. //Too bad   
she's a Vulcan,// he thought wistfully. //She'd make a hell of a woman.//  
  
Trip shook his head and took his seat. His gaze traveled over the image on the screen. "What's goin'  
on?" he asked, puzzled. The orb, laid out on the viewscreen, was plunged into obscurity, which   
wouldn't have been so odd had it not been facing the system's twin suns. It looked altogether   
gloomy, unappealing, and frankly rather strange. The engineer's sharp eyes picked out large cloud   
formations on the surface. Hurricanes, or snowstorms, perhaps. He was briefly reminded of the ninth   
icy circle of Dante's Inferno. Not that the metaphor made him any more eager to be on the away team   
for that mission - the planet already gave him the creeps.   
  
Captain Archer's voice cut through his musings. "Trip, T'Pol, Malcolm - you're with me. Hold 'er   
steady, Travis." Trip sighed inwardly, but didn't want to curb the captain's obvious enthusiasm for   
this strange phenomenon.   
  
Trip was tempted to look over at T'Pol, to get her reaction to the dismal sight gracing the bridge   
viewscreen. //What the hell ya talkin' about, she's probably seen more'n her share of planets jest   
like this,// he rebuked himself. //'Sides, she wouldn't show anythin' anyways, even if it was new to   
her.//  
  
He couldn't quell the thought, even as he left the bridge for the dark planet below them. //Too   
bad.//  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
You like? I like. 


	2. AN

A/N:  
  
Just wanted to let you know that, 1) yes I screwed up the format, and subsequent chapters will be   
easier to read, I promise. 2) I did indeed mean to write 2000 hours, but I guess you all knew what   
I meant, dincha? And 3), since FF.net does not seem to appreciate my choice of italics tags, I'll   
be using slashes, like so: //blah blah blah//, to denote thoughts in future writing.   
Thanks for the input. Keep them reviews coming.  
  
_agentpippin_ 


	3. Random cleaning

Okay, this chapter has just the mildest spoilers for Cold Front. Enjoy. Slightly more angsty here.   
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money made. Just for my own amusement. Hopefully yours too.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
"Damn," Trip sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I hate those infrared goggles."  
  
T'Pol barely spared him a glance. They sat in relative silence for a little while, the only sounds being the various soft   
bleeps and whirrs of the shuttlepod. T'Pol's slender fingers worked over her console at a remarkable speed, and Trip sat   
mesmerized. He started when the Vulcan officer spoke.  
  
"Shuttlepod Two to Enterprise. Request permission to dock," she asked without much trace of a question in her smooth voice.   
Trip turned back to his own console and began the docking sequence.   
  
"We see you, Sub-Commander. Permission granted," Ensign Mayweather's voice said over the comm. Trip grinned at the thought of  
T'Pol taking orders from a Starfleet ensign. He wondered briefly what she'd have done if Travis had said no.   
  
//She probably wouldn't even have realized he'd'a been jokin',// Trip chuckled to himself. It was one of her more endearing   
traits; sometimes he couldn't resist throwing a human idiom or a joke at her, just to see the look on her face.   
  
His subconscious had taken his fingers over the console and through the docking procedure without Trip being aware of it. He   
started and chastised himself for drifting off. Daydreams could cause some serious problems aboard a starship.   
  
The muted "thud" of the docking clamp shuddered throughout the shuttlepod. Trip waited until the distant clang of the bay   
doors and hiss of repressurization made themselves known, then got up and unsealed the hatch. He stood back to let T'Pol exit  
first, and she did so with a slight inclination of her head.   
  
They walked together through the corridors, now fairly bustling with officers. The information the shuttlepod's sensors had   
gathered on this "backwards planet" was enough to keep the ship busy for days, and the crew was going at the data with   
admirable enthusiasm.   
  
Trip's feet kept themselves guided towards Engineering, now knowing the path by heart, head and soul. He had once joked,   
seeing the parts being assembled in spacedock, that it was so big, "it shoulda been named the Time Traveler - the bridge has   
a diff'rent time zone than the shuttlebay does". Now it seemed like the cosiest place on earth to him.  
  
The doors to Engineering hissed open and Trip and T'Pol were greeted by the mechanical bustle of the warp core and its   
attendants. The steady thrum of the matter/antimatter reaction calmed Trip's frayed nerves, the spooky episode on the planet  
almost forgotten. He climbed up the ladder to the main console and briefly checked a couple systems. "Nothin' to worry 'bout  
here, Sub-Commander, s'all in order." He leaned forward to look down at the Vulcan standing patiently below him. "Now how   
'bout that movie, huh?"   
  
T'Pol raised her chin. "The movie does not start for another two hours and fourteen minutes, Mister Tucker."  
  
"That long?" Trip said, surprised. "Helluva thing, I'm losin' track of time. Well, if there ain't nothin' more to do here,   
I'm gonna head back to my quarters an' relax a bit." He hopped back down and grabbed hold of a passing officer. "S'yer turn   
to be on duty, Johnson, I'm goin' to my quarters. Anythin' happens here, ya give me a shout. Got that?" The lieutenant   
nodded, smiling, and climbed up to Trip's previous post.   
  
Trip grinned. "Young kid, got a heart o' gold, that one. Tried his damndest to keep the reactor together when that cascade   
started, the one with the pilgrims on board." T'Pol nodded and listened to Trip's chatter all the way back to his quarters.   
The human capacity for distraction was quite remarkable, T'Pol decided. Although Trip's "shop talk" had the ability to   
irritate her at times, she found it quite soothing when she herself became distracted.   
  
"Well, I guess yer 'bout ready to kick me out an airlock fer takin' up so much o' yer time, Sub-Commander," Trip's voice   
unintentionally echoed her thoughts. They had reached his quarters. Trip was keying in his authorization code.   
  
"You know I would not attempt such antics, Commander," T'Pol said, raising an eyebrow. The door slid open and Trip grinned   
impishly.   
  
"I never can tell with you Vulcans," he retorted over his shoulder as he stepped over the threshold.  
  
T'Pol waited for him to close the door. Trip, however, seemed to have other ideas. "Well, what're ya waitin' for? Come on   
in," Trip encouraged, "unless ya got somethin' else to do."  
  
T'Pol inclined her head and stepped inside. "Thank you, Commander."  
  
Trip was hastily rearranging PADDs, books, and clothes. He glanced up from straightening a pile of books. "We're off duty,   
darlin', you can call me Trip."  
  
"Indeed," T'Pol returned composedly. She glanced around the room. The human smell was usually the first thing she noticed   
upon entering one of their personal quarters, which was not often. In the engineer's room, however, his smell was almost   
part of the background, something between thyme and lemon. There were personal effects everywhere, from hand-written   
letters on paper, to photographs of various people, to small trophies. T'Pol was beginning to get used to the disorganised   
environment most humans preferred, and stepped neatly over a pair of black pants to sit tentatively on the edge of a chair by  
the desk. Trip emerged from the bathroom carrying a load of laundry and kicked it into the closet. T'Pol raised an amused   
eyebrow as he went back for another load.   
  
"You can put that eyebrow down, s'not usually like this," Trip called from the bathroom. "Got a lotta work to catch up on,   
an' personal chores were never a big thing for me." He came out from the bathroom again and stuffed the last pile in the   
now overflowing closet. He flopped down on the bed with a loud sigh. "I'm gonna sleep tonight," he mumbled. He rolled over   
onto his stomach and regarded T'Pol. "Don't suppose ya got loads o' laundry to do every day, do ya?"   
  
T'Pol did not bother answering. The question was obviously rhetorical.  
  
"So, T'Pol..." Trip began carefully. "I hate to bring this up, but, you remember the... the transmission ya got from yer   
fiancé? The one about yer marriage?"  
  
T'Pol hesitated. How could she talk to him about this now?  
  
Trip sensed her trepidation and quickly shook his head. "Sorry, s'none o' my business. Shouldn't be askin'."  
  
"It's all right, Commander... Trip," she corrected herself. "The... situation with my family and my fiancée had just not   
crossed my mind for awhile." Trip propped himself up on his elbows, curious. "So what's the scoop?" he asked.  
  
T'Pol stopped. "What's the situation?" Trip amended. He grinned inwardly.  
  
T'Pol began again. "My family has agreed that since I was not willing to return to Vulcan to marry, I may now make my own   
personal choice on if and when I will marry."  
  
Trip's voice was soft. "And who?"  
  
"And who."  
  
They were silent for a while. Trip watched T'Pol's face, expressionless as ever. Although as his eyes met hers, she seemed   
to be struggling with a strong feeling. He was shocked to see her deep brown eyes filled with - something. Remorse, maybe.   
Guilt. Fear.   
  
//Don't be stupid,// Trip told himself. //Vulcans ain't afraid.//  
  
She stood up abruptly and, for one split second, Trip thought she had interpreted his silence as an invitation to leave. It   
took another moment for him to realize that the comm had gone off, and T'Pol was answering it.   
  
"Trip?" Archer's voice.  
  
"This is Sub-Commander T'Pol, Captain," T'Pol said into the comm.  
  
"T'Pol? What are you... never mind. I don't want to know. I just wanted to ask you and the commander if you wanted to come   
to my quarters for dinner tonight." The captain's voice was hesistant. "He is there, isn't he?"  
  
"I'm here, Cap'n," Trip called from his bed. "I'm sure up for dinner - how 'bout you, T'Pol?" The Vulcan nodded once and   
turned back to the comm. "It appears we will both be attending, Captain."  
  
"Okay. See you two at 1800 hours. Hang on, that's right about now, isn't it? In that case, come right on over," Archer told   
them.   
  
"Thank you, Captain. T'Pol out." T'Pol turned to Trip, who stretched and got to his feet. "Prime rib, here I come," he   
exclaimed eagerly. "You sure are missin' out on a coupla life's great pleasures with yer vegetarian Vulcanism," he told   
T'Pol. She raised her eyebrows. "Vulcans do not consume the flesh of animals," she told him calmly.  
  
"I'll take yer word fer that, cause I sure as hell ain't a Vulcan, and I'm hungry," he announced. T'Pol inclined her head.   
  
Trip swept an arm towards the door. "Ladies first."  
  
T'Pol started forward, then turned to Trip. "Thank you."  
  
Trip was genuinely surprised. "My pleasure, darlin'," he told her, "anytime."  
  
She looked at him for a moment longer, and allowed herself a faint smile. "Do you enjoy the Terran Chinese food?"  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
So, dinner and a show! What will the galaxy's favorite pair get up to now? Well... MY favorite pair, anyways. 


	4. Dairy products

Disclaimer: Want it desperately. However, not mine.  
  
This is dedicated to Bucky, for being so patient. Smoochies to you!  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
"Have fun down there?" Trip asked around a mouthful of prime rib.  
  
"Mmph," Archer mumbled. He swallowed and took a sip of milk. "It was certainly... interesting. These people say they   
immigrated there from another planet a short ways away, to hunt the local animals." In went another chunk of rib. "The planet  
doesn't have a normal axis, so it's always dark. Kind of spooky, actually."   
  
T'Pol sat and ate her salad quietly. Trip glanced over at her to gauge the effect Captain Archer's comments had on her, but   
as per usual, she was nearly expressionless. Trip sometimes prided himself on being able to vaguely describe what T'Pol was   
feeling, based on her facial expressions (or lack thereof).   
  
His eyes lingered on her mouth, watching as she neatly chewed a leaf of lettuce, accompanied by a Vulcan vegetable that   
looked somewhat like a mushroom.   
  
"So what did you two get up to while Malcolm and I were running around the Planet of Eternal Darkness?"  
  
Trip started and found Archer looking expectantly at him. He tried to clear his thoughts. "We, uh... well, there wasn't much   
in the way of chores to do when we got back, so I let Travis take the bridge," he offered.   
  
Archer smiled. "He must have loved that." He set down his fork and knife and leaned across the table. "What about you,   
Subcommander?" T'Pol looked up from her salad, a questioning look on her face. "Captain?"  
  
"What do you think of the planet?" Archer asked. T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "It is an interesting phenomenon," she said.   
  
Trip grinned. "Travis thought so - heard from Ensign Cutler that he was runnin' around the bridge orderin' anybody an'   
everybody within hearin' range to get as much information on it as they could." Archer chuckled and sat back in his chair.   
"He's a good kid."   
  
The chef came in with a bowl of lime Jello and a scoop of lime sherbert each, just as T'Pol finished her salad and tea. The   
bowls were set down and the chef left the room. "Mmm, Jello!" Trip enthused, picking up his spoon. Archer grinned and dug in.  
T'Pol, however, sat and looked down at her Jello and ice cream as though it might bite back.  
  
Trip looked up at the Vulcan. "What's wrong, T'Pol?"  
  
She seemed uncertain. "Vulcans do not consume... gelatinous foods," she said, staring down at the green dessert.  
  
"Aw, ya can't live with humans and not try Jello at least once," Trip prodded. "C'mon. Please? For me?"  
  
T'Pol looked up. "Even if I were to try this food, how would I go about doing so?" she inquired.  
  
Archer watched with interest. Trip's plea had made him curious - since when would a Vulcan do anything "for" a human? But   
T'Pol seemed to be seriously considering tackling the wiggly gelatin.  
  
Trip was showing her how to use a spoon with Jello. "Just hold it like this, an' scoop little bits outta it at a time. Or,   
if that's not workin', ya can always use yer fingers," he grinned. Archer suspected that was one thing T'Pol was not ever   
going to be willing to do, no matter how much Trip pleaded.  
  
T'Pol grasped the spoon and scooped up a small amount of Jello. She put the spoon in her mouth, pulled it out, and attempted   
to chew the Jello.   
  
"No, no, ya just slurp it, like this," Trip told her, and swallowed a big spoonful. T'Pol tried again. This time, she got a   
considerable amount of the dessert down her throat.   
  
Trip smiled widely. "There ya go. S'easy, huh?"   
  
T'Pol considered. "This is an agreeable dessert," she stated after a moment.  
  
Archer laughed. "Now try the sherbert."  
  
Trip grinned and wolfed down his own ice cream with vigour. T'Pol took small, dainty bites, wincing every now and then.   
Archer noticed her expression. "Something wrong?"  
  
"My mouth is... sensitive, Captain," she told him, frowning down at her dessert. "This dairy product is aggravating the   
nerves in my teeth."  
  
Trip grimaced. "I had that when I was a kid. Annoyed the hell outta me cause I couldn't eat ice cream without my mouth   
feelin' like it was on fire." Trip glanced up at T'Pol. "Ya could probably ask Doctor Phlox to take a look at it - I'm sure   
he could do somethin' 'bout it."  
  
T'Pol gave Trip a grateful look. "Thank you, Commander."  
  
Archer was distracted from the odd exchange by his wrist chronometer beeping at him. "Okay, gang, it's 2000 hours. Time for   
the movie," he declared, standing up. Trip and T'Pol did the same, and followed him out the door.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
Okay, so they didn't see the movie in this one. Next chappie, I promise. 


	5. Human tendencies

Okay, here's the final chapter. I had fun writing this, and I hope you had fun reading it, despite the fact that I kind of   
forgot about this for a month or two. Oopsie daisy.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
The mess hall was packed for the movie, and yet to Trip it didn't seem crowded at all. He mused about the results of living   
in a five-child family, and decided that that was probably one of them.   
  
T'Pol sat serenely next to him, waiting patiently for the film to start. Trip had thought about the possible implications of   
sneaking some of the popcorn that sat in a bag on her lap, but had decided that he liked his career where it was. //One stolen   
handful an' she'd be soundin' alarms all over the Vulcan embassy,// Trip thought, grimacing inwardly.  
  
The lights flickered, and in the space of an instant, Trip's mind went into something-wrong-with-the-ship-must-find-out-what-  
it-is-and-fix-it mode. Sheepishly, he calmed down as he realized that the movie was starting. He glanced over at T'Pol,   
indulging for a moment in gazing at her backlit profile. Her spine remained ramrod-straight, and Trip sighed inwardly at her   
formality.  
  
"C'mon, Subcommander, ya gotta relax," he muttered to her as the opening credits (accompanied by too-loud horror flick music)   
rolled across the large screen. "Try the popcorn, it isn't just for decoration, ya know."   
  
T'Pol gave him a sideways glance that indicated all too clearly her opinions on such human tendencies as Trip's eagerness.   
She picked up the bag and drew out a couple of kernels. Trip watched as she ate them, frowning slightly and spitting out a   
popcorn seed.   
  
"Better," he told her. "Munch it while yer watchin' the movie."  
  
"Munch it?"   
  
"Just eat it."  
  
T'Pol gave a barely audible sigh and continued to snack on the popcorn. Trip had to fight to keep from laughing at her   
expression whilst the mutant zombies attacked the small town of Winchesterton and its inhabitants ran screaming for their   
lives. The same look occurred in scenes such as when the zombies were miraculously distracted by a squad of various heroic   
Winchesterton inhabitants and led to the lake, whereupon they drowned in its murky depths. //Bless humanity and its capacity   
for entertainment at any cost,// Trip thought happily.  
  
The lights slowly came back to normal as the screen went black and murmurs and laughter raced through the room. "What'd ya   
think?" Trip asked with a grin, standing up and stretching.   
  
T'Pol remained in her seat, puzzlement as the dominant expression her face. "I do not understand," she began, and Trip grinned   
all the more widely. "Surprise."  
  
She peppered him with questions as Trip accompanied her to her quarters, trying to explain the movie and what made it   
entertaining. T'Pol was obviously unsatisfied with his replies, and turned to face him in the corridor.   
  
"Why do humans watch these type of movies?" she asked for about the third time.  
  
Trip sighed. "It's so stupid it's funny," he told her, lifting his hands in an 'I don't have any sort of answer to that   
question, so just accept it as yet another quirk of humanity' gesture.   
  
T'Pol raised a solitary eyebrow. "And as humanity continues to evolve, you continue to use this as an excuse?"   
  
Trip mock-frowned. "Don't say we're evolvin' - makes me feel like a specimen of somethin' under a microscope."   
  
"What term would you choose, then?" T'Pol asked, challenge evident in her voice.   
  
He shrugged. "Adaptin', maybe. Learnin'."  
  
"Indeed." T'Pol made no further commentary, and Trip hoped he had least partly cleared matters up for her.   
  
They reached her quarters, and T'Pol turned to him again. "Good night, Commander."  
  
Trip grinned. "We should do this again sometime."  
  
T'Pol gave him a 'look'. "You wish to partake in such a frivolous human indulgence again?"  
  
"Well, we can do something Vulcan if you want - I don't suppose ya have movies on Vulcan?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Your loss. Seriously, what do ya do for fun?" Trip probed.  
  
T'Pol gave in. "We meditate, or pray. Art and music are also common on my world."  
  
"Really, now?" Trip was intrigued. "Show me some Vulcan literature, then."  
  
Trip realized his mistake a couple seconds later as T'Pol went into her quarters and returned with a heavy-looking tome.   
"This should satisfy your curiosity."  
  
"Ah... thanks," Trip said carefully, studying the book. It was entitled "Teachings of Surak."  
  
"Waitaminute - it's in English?" Trip said suddenly. He flipped it open and riffled through the pages. They contained some   
drawings here and there, but the text was entirely English.  
  
"Yes," T'Pol stated. "There are numerous humans who have expressed a desire to learn more about Vulcan culture - including   
yourself," she added. "This book was translated for the benefit of those humans. I would ask you to be cautious with it -   
there are not many copies of Surak's teachings in your language."  
  
"Well, thanks, T'Pol," Trip said, realizing the gift she was giving him. "I'll be careful with it."  
  
T'Pol inclined her head. "Thank you, Commander."  
  
"Well... see ya," he told her, waving as he headed down the corridor.   
  
T'Pol watched him as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight. She stood for a moment longer, then went into her   
quarters.   
  
Another book sat on her desk. She picked it up and slipped into the chair, settling back against the cold metal.   
  
The book was also in English, and it was titled 'Frankenstein'.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
Awwww, how cute. Okay, I should prolly write a sequel...  
  
Anyways, thanks everybody for the reviews! Thanks also to Karen, who put this up on TripTpolers. Go visit it, tis a lurvely   
site for T/T shippers! http://triptpolers.houseoftucker.com  
  
*plugplugplug* 


End file.
